


The Way The Light Dances

by chronicAngel



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV Third Person Limited, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: I got really in the mood to write some League of Legends stuff, so here we are.





	

The light dances across her fingers, the bouncing colors providing a familiar warmth against her pale skin as she absentmindedly peels off still-bloody armor and sits in a chair that is still warm from another Champion recently leaving it in a room specifically meant for cleaning up after battle. Lux is not used to familiarity. Her world is constantly changing and small details are fleeting, shifting and tweaking the second she has them burned into her brain like the chants she learned during her military service or the many forms of magic she studied as a child. Familiarity is a new concept, things remaining the same is a new concept, and ironically, she has not grown used to it in the years of repetition that she has been a member of the League of Legends.

After a moment of staring at her hand, at the ball of light she has been treating like a plaything since she started her trek down the long, familiar hallway from the Fields of Justice, she feels a gloved hand rest on her shoulder. That, too, almost burns with familiarity, but when she looks up at his face, it is with a smile.

Ezreal is one of the few things that prevents her life from getting dull, one of the few things that still changes frequently enough to pique her interest without becoming a total mystery to her. The smudges of dirt on his cheeks under the brilliant blue markings are in a different pattern from the last time she saw him, but they are still right where she would expect them to be. She knows that his hands are calloused under his gloves, but the roughness is a new feeling every time. The goggles resting atop his dirty-blonde locks are lopsided haphazardly, and she knows that he is not going to fix them not because he likes them where they are but simply because he doesn't care about their position. He has an almost permanent shrug which seems to match his permanent grin, an expression oozing with arrogance and confidence that she would resent if anyone else were to wear it, but appreciates on him, which only changes when he's concentrated in the heat of battle. She has seen that concentration, with his eyes squinted only slightly and his forehead glossed with sweat and a light in his eyes that she could never manipulate, amplify, nor stifle no matter how much she wanted to. She has experience with Ezreal, she understands him and how he works, like a clockmaker understands the gears inside of a clock and like Heimerdinger understands his machines.

When she leaves with him, it is after he whispers to her that he has something he would like to show her, her breastplate left abandoned and bloody on the floor of the room for someone else to return to her quarters or steal, depending on the mood that they're in. Lux has never had very many friends among her fellow Champions, rather people she is friendly with and exchanges passing pleasantries with without attempting to escalate it into any real sort of conversation. Ezreal, on the other hand, seems to be good friends with nearly everyone, yelling excited greetings to everyone they pass and always getting a response, and even exchanging friendly high-fives with the overly-stern Jayce and the admittedly-childish Vi, who very quickly return to their muttered conversation with Caitlyn, just as Ezreal very quickly returns to leading Lux through the winding hallways to whatever it is he wants to show her. Ezreal is the most apathetic person that she knows, able to provide a shrug as the answer to any question, and yet he still somehow gets along with everyone that he meets. She marvels at his charm.

She isn't sure when they leave the Institute, nor when they are no longer in the city but in some underground passage, crawling on their stomachs through a wide but short tunnel in the earth that she is only pretty sure is natural. With him, she manages to ignore the uptight voice inside of her complaining about how much dirt she is getting on her undershirt, favoring exchanging laughs when one of their arms slips and they fall flat on their stomach.

After what felt like hours of belly-crawling, though she logically knew it to only be a few minutes, they enter the much more open expanse of a cavern, so dark that she nearly misses his gesture, though she could have guessed it with his tiny "ta-da" to accompany it. He is gesturing around, to the general space around them, and at first she doesn't get it. A small, petty part of her is angry that he has wasted her time in bringing her here to this useless place.

It isn't until she grows frustrated with her inability to see him that she learns why he had brought her here, the light she produces reflecting off of purple and blue crystals to create a shimmering image of harmonious lights.

The frustration she had felt with him quickly evaporates as she stares in amazement at the way the light dances around them, a waltz of complementary colors that fade in and out of each other with what seems like rehearsed perfection but is only the natural response to the small beam of light she has created. Her eyes are wide, she can tell, and no matter how much she wants to, her mouth is agape and she cannot close it. The grin on his face is not smug or cocky like she is used to, he is not silently bragging because he was the one to show her this beautiful place; she knows that his grin is more genuine than that and she thinks that this may be the exact reason she likes him, because he is unpredictable and changing and free, and when he came to this place he thought of her, he thought he should show her its magnificence.

"Aw, close your mouth, Lux, you look like a toddler." She is ripped away from the image by his voice, and she snorts out a laugh before moving to punch him in the shoulder. He catches her fist in his hand, and she takes it as a challenge, sending her other fist flying toward his chest, which he does not mange to block in time and becomes winded, and soon they're sparring with each other and she can't help but think about how weird their dates are. He catches her in the legs with a kick, tripping her before catching her and grinning, and this time it is filled with bragging and she wants to punch him right in his stupid, smug face but she doesn't. They stare into each others' eyes for a minute and she cannot focus on keeping the light from burning out when he leans in to kiss her.


End file.
